


look the other way

by OpheliaMarina



Category: Scream (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaMarina/pseuds/OpheliaMarina
Summary: Lakewood starts a small town and it stays a small town. It's only Emma and Audrey who get bigger.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Much much love to Bri for beta'ing!

There was never a time in their lives where Audrey was taller than Emma, even though she is older, by two months and a week. Still, it was less pronounced when they were little. 

“You’ll be tall,” Audrey says confidently, legs dangling off the edge of the swing. They’re not long enough for her to twist herself up on the chain, so Emma’s doing it, slowly spinning her in place as the metal grinds. They’re eight, and the world’s small and peaceful. “Your dad’s tall. But I’ll be taller.”

Privately Emma hopes Audrey will be taller than she is, because girls aren’t supposed to be tall. At least, girls like Emma aren’t. Audrey isn’t like other girls, so it’s okay if she’s tall, but as far as Emma goes, she’d rather be like her mom, not short but _compact_. “Your dad’s tall too. So is your mom. So probably.”

Audrey wrinkles her nose, and tilts her head back so she can look at Emma even as she’s being turned in the slow circle. “My dad says I have bad posture, though. He says I’ll get schoolosis.”

“ _Scoliosis_ ,” Emma corrects her, and tugs on the chain, but it won’t twist anymore. She holds it there instead, and wheels around it a little so she can look Audrey in the face. “You need to sit up straight.”

In response, Audrey just hunches up more, and looks up at Emma with challenging, glittering eyes. Emma sticks her tongue out at her, and she giggles. “Don’t be stupid, you _are_ going to get scoliosis. Anyway, how tall do you wanna be?”

Relenting, Audrey sits up straight again, ducks a little so she doesn’t hit her head on the chain. “Dunno. Just tall.” Then, in a moment of inspiration, “Taller than your dad.”

“My dad’s _really_ tall,” Emma says concernedly, and Audrey just shrugs, holding the chain and leaning back as far as she can go, feet kicking idly in small circles. “I don’t want to be that tall. I don’t want to be taller than boys. What if you dated a boy that was shorter than you?”

Audrey nearly falls off the swing, grapples with the chain for a minute then pulls herself back up. “What does _that_ have to do with anything?”

“I just mean,” Emma says, and she feels kind of awkward about it, with Audrey giving her that disapproving look. “Remember when we watched Princess Diaries? And how, like, when you kiss a boy for a first time and it’s really magical, your foot is supposed to pop up? That wouldn’t work if the boy was shorter than you, I think.”

“Who cares?” Audrey says impatiently, and wiggles her butt around on the seat, sneakers knocking against Emma’s shins. “You shouldn’t date people based on how tall they are. That’s stupid.”

Emma frowns at her, hurt. “You’re stupid.”

“ _You’re_ stupid,” Audrey retaliates, then shakes the chain. “Come on, let _go_.”

So Emma does, and Audrey starts spinning, slow at first but soon enough she’s zipping around, the chain clinking against itself and Audrey wheezing with giggles. She crosses her arms, and waits for Audrey to come to a slow, breathless stop. “It’s not stupid.”

It takes a second for Audrey to focus on her again, giggling and dizzy, but when she does manage it and sees Emma’s expression, she immediately looks contrite. “Fine, it’s not stupid. I’m sorry.” She hops off the swing and pats the seat. “Your turn.”

Reluctantly, Emma sits down on it, and Audrey takes one side of the chain and starts to walk in slow, lazy circles. She winds up the swing different from Emma; the way Audrey does it, Emma can always see her face. “What does it matter, anyway, it’s not like you like any boys.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to,” Emma says, kicking off her flip flops and watching them spin around under her. She knows Audrey is going to be making a face, so she doesn’t look at her, and keeps talking. “What about you? Why do you wanna be as tall as my dad?”

The chain screeches, hard, against itself, and Audrey comes to a stop with her arm extended all the way out. The way they are now, their bodies are making a triangle, the kind of triangle Emma thinks is called _right_. “So no one will mess with us,” Audrey says, simply, and lets go of the swing. 

Emma spins around so fast she kind of feels like the world will be upside down when she stops. At the very end, she lets go, not on purpose but not by accident either, and Audrey yelps and dives and Emma lands on top of her. Then they’re both lying flat on the damp playground sand, laughing and coughing and Audrey whining about sand-burn. 

\---

They’re eleven now. The world is about the same size, and not as peaceful. 

“I’m very disappointed in you girls,” Maggie says. Emma wasn’t allowed to sit in the front seat, so she has to imagine the disappointed look on her mom’s face. “Audrey, honestly. What am I supposed to tell your parents?”

Audrey declines comment. She’s sitting next to Emma in the backseat, and she’s been very quiet the whole ride but she doesn’t seem very sorry. Her hair is in a horrible, uneven pageboy cut and her bottom lip is swollen with blood and every time Emma looks at her she feels like she’s going to cry. Audrey’s resolutely not looking at her, and Emma can’t tell if it’s because she’s mad or if it’s because she feels the same way.

They stop outside the Duvals’ house. Emma’s dad’s car isn’t in the driveway, because it never is. The engine stays running. 

“Do you want me to call your parents, Audrey?” Maggie says, in the same hard disappointed voice. Quickly, Emma reaches for Audrey’s hand and snatches it, squeezing it tight.

That spurs Audrey into speaking, at least. “No.”

It’s a small and brittle sound. Emma squeezes her hand harder. Maggie sighs, and finally looks back at them. There’s a long, long moment of silence. Both Emma and Audrey are looking at the ground. 

Then Maggie finally says, “Well, come on. Both of you. Audrey, let’s get some ice on that mouth.”

Emma doesn’t let go of her hand the entire way into the house, because even though it’s dumb it kind of feels like if she doesn’t Audrey will get carried away, by somebody, by her parents or by Emma’s mom or by Billy Grayson’s mom or _somebody_. She waits until they’re safe inside the house, behind the locked door. She knows she’s squeezing too hard, but Audrey doesn’t say anything.

Maggie gives the two of them another look when they get into the kitchen, puts her hands on her hips, and sighs again. Then she reaches down, picks up Audrey under the armpits with very little warning and even less effort, and sets her down to sit on the counter. Emma hops up onto the stool next to her. Audrey just scowls, but doesn’t protest.

Once Maggie has the ice out of the freezer and wrapped in a towel and against Audrey’s split lip, she tuts, the way she does when she finds them doubled over with popcorn-eating pains. “What is the matter with you, Miss Jensen?”

Audrey doesn’t say anything, just keeps her gaze firmly on Maggie’s nose. When Maggie glances to the side, Emma hurriedly looks down to avoid looking back. Maggie tuts again, then changes the position of the towel against Audrey’s face. Blood comes beading away, and Emma’s stomach turns over. “How come you girls are suddenly so good at playing the quiet game? It’s not like you’ve had much practice.”

Silence. Apparently losing patience, Maggie looks at Emma again. “Emma, do I need to call your father?”

Emma goes to shake her head, but Audrey beats her to the punch. “No.”

Maggie looks back at her. So does Emma. “No?”

“No,” Audrey repeats, stubbornly, and blood runs down her chin. “Don’t tell Kevin about it. It wasn’t Emma’s fault.” 

She always calls Emma’s dad Mr. Duval to his face, so it’s weird to hear her call him Kevin. They both stare at her, then Maggie puts the ice back on her lip. “So should I be calling your parents after all then, Audrey?”

Audrey shakes her head, vehemently, and the towel’s smeared with red. “ _No_. My mom’s sick again, I’m not supposed to be making her stressed. And it wasn’t my fault either! It was Billy Grayson.”

That makes Maggie pause, and pull away again. “Billy Grayson cut off your hair?”

Audrey hesitates. “No.” Then, at Maggie’s imperative stare, “I cut off my hair.”

The question _why_ is formed clearly on Maggie’s face, but she shakes it off, goes down the more direct route first. “How is it Billy Grayson’s fault, then?”

For a moment the two of them just stare at each other. Then Audrey reaches behind her, grabs Emma’s arm, pulls it forward, and slides the sleeve up. Emma tugs back, but Audrey has a vice grip.

There’s a bruise there, and it’s not very big but it is very purple. Emma winces looking at it. Audrey doesn’t even bother to look, just keeps glaring up at Maggie.

Maggie stares at the bruise with her mouth open for about forty-six seconds. Emma counts. Then she looks at Emma again, her face completely different. “Billy Grayson did this to you?”

Emma nods, meekly. Audrey lets go of her arm, and says, “Yeah. He pulled her hair, like this-” Gently, her hand comes around the back of Emma’s head, fists around her hair, and tugs lightly, twice. “Except really hard. And then when she didn’t do anything, he grabbed her arm there. And she fell.”

Now her mom’s face looks like it does when she’s solving a crossword. “So you hit him, Audrey.”

“Yeah,” Audrey says simply. “And he hit me back.”

Emma’s still looking down at the bruise on her arm, because she can’t bear to look at Audrey anymore. She can feel Maggie’s gaze still on her, though. Her stomach still hurts a lot. 

Finally, her mom’s gaze lifts. “And your hair?”

There’s a split second beat of hesitation, then Audrey says, “I told you, I cut it off. Can we have juice boxes?”

“Please,” Emma tacks on, because they don’t get anything without a please and her mouth is very dry.

Apparently, hearing Emma speak is enough for Maggie to pull out of her concentrated staring at the split ends of Audrey’s hair. She looks at Emma, and this time Emma looks back even though her lip is trembling.

Maggie’s unreadable expression breaks into pity. “Oh, honey. Of course you can.” She goes over to the cabinet, retrieves the last two cherry ones they had been saving for movie night. “How about this, okay? Audrey, you take the ice pack and you and Emma go down into the basement and turn on some cartoons, I’ll call Peggy at the salon and figure out what to do with that hair. Then I’ll give Billy Grayson’s mom a call. We’ll get this sorted out. Okay?”

“Okay,” Emma whispers back. Audrey nods, and hops off the counter, takes Emma’s hand again and scoots. Maggie’s already dialing the phone as they slip out of the kitchen.

They’re ten minutes into Courage the Cowardly Dog when Emma finally musters up the courage to talk to Audrey. “I’m so _sorry_ , Audrey.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Audrey says, and stabs the juice pouch so hard that little red flecks fly everywhere, staining her shirt. She doesn’t notice. Emma does. “It’s not your _fault_.”

It is Emma’s fault. She’s so bad at keeping problems to herself, someone else always gets involved and it’s always Audrey that gets hurt. “It is my fault, you got hit because of me and now you’re going to get in trouble because of me-”

“I don’t care,” Audrey says fiercely, and turns on her knees to face Emma head-on. Her newly choppy dark hair is brushing high against her cheeks. “Are _you_ okay?”

Emma blinks at her. “You’re _bleeding_ -”

Audrey completely ignores her. “He twisted your arm. Does it still hurt?”

As if Emma’s thought about her arm at all since Audrey’s mouth opened up red. “N-no.”

Audrey stares at her for another second, then relaxes a little, says, “Good,” and eases back to sit slouching on the couch again. 

For a while, Emma just looks at her, thinking about how suddenly without long hair Audrey’s face is so much more full, and pale, how her eyes are so much bigger. FInally she says, “Why did you cut your hair off like that?”

Because it really had just been like _that_ , Audrey dragging Emma away from Billy Grayson, all the way of the playground and into an empty dark classroom, blood all over her mouth and a look in her eyes like Emma had never seen before. All she’d said was, “are you okay?” once, then waited for Emma to nod, shakily, before going over to Ms. Swan’s desk, picking up her pair of adult scissors, and cutting off all her hair, right up to her chin. She’d thrown it into the garbage bucket, then given Emma a silent, challenging look, and Emma hadn’t said anything, and then Ms. Swan had found them there. 

Audrey shrugs, and leans further back into the couch, disappearing slightly into the cushions. “I don’t know. I just don’t want any boys pulling my hair anymore the way they pull yours. Besides, it got in my face too much.” There’s a pause, and when she speaks again her voice is rougher and meaner, which usually means she’s nervous. “You think it looks stupid.”

Emma shakes her head, hard. “No! No I don’t! It looks super cool, I think. Your eyes seem bigger, and you have pretty eyes. And it makes you look tough. Like Joan Jett.”

She doesn’t really know anything about Joan Jett other than Audrey’s mom likes her, and so Audrey likes her too, by proxy. Still, saying so unburies Audrey from the couch, and when she looks at Emma again, she’s smiling, looking almost shy. “You’re just saying that so I don’t feel dumb about cutting off my hair with teacher scissors.”

“No, I mean it,” Emma insists, and the more she looks at it the more short hair seems to fit Audrey, like she’s had it all along. “I mean, it’s uneven right now, so-”

Reaching out with both hands, she tucks some of the longer bits behind Audrey’s ears. Audrey holds herself very still, then exhales when Emma pulls away again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Emma says decisively. “You should keep it short, it looks good.”

Now Audrey smiles with her whole mouth. “Thanks.”

Smiling makes her lip split again. Emma swallows, and runs upstairs for a new towel. 

\---

They’re thirteen now, and and they’re getting bigger and so is the world, but it still feels very small when it’s New Year’s Eve and no one is here.

The thing is, Emma isn’t even sure she really wanted her dad to come. It’s been nearly six months since he and Maggie got divorced-divorced, the kind of official divorce where papers are signed and things are moved out in boxes and the yelling has stopped so everything’s too quiet. But the house feels very very big without him here. Like it could swallow them all up.

“Emma, I think you’re hitting a growth spurt,” Maggie says, breaking the silence for what must be the eighth time. “ _Look_ at those legs. Don’t you think so, Audrey?”

Audrey shrugs, and does not look at Emma’s legs. She’s sitting on Maggie’s other side on the couch, eyes on the TV, holding a red solo cup half full of the champagne Maggie let them have for the first time. Emma’s tried it and she’s not sure she likes it; it burned the back of her throat on the way down. “She’s always been taller than me anyway. Can’t tell.”

“You’ve grown too,” Emma says, over her mom’s shoulders. “A little bit.”

The first thing that falls back against the cushion is Audrey’s hair; it’s growing longer again. Then it’s her head, looking sideways at Emma and scowling goodnaturedly at her. “Don’t pity me, Duval.”

A little relieved, Emma giggles. “I’m not! It’s true.”

The phone rings out in the other room, and Maggie shoots to her feet, then looks embarrassed at herself. “That’ll probably be your grandma,” she says, awkwardly, then ambles away into the kitchen.

There’s a beat of silence, then Emma says, “She’s waiting for my dad to call.”

“Screw your dad,” Audrey says, but without too much heat. She knows Emma’s tired of arguing about her dad, even if Audrey’s not tired of saying to screw him.

Still, neither of them know what to say after that. On TV, Ryan Seacrest says, “Just THREE MORE MINUTES until that ball drops, folks! Got someone to kiss?”

Very suddenly, Audrey says, “What happened about Nina’s party?”

Emma glances at her, surprised. “What?”

“Nina’s party,” Audrey says. “For New Year. You were invited, I thought you’d go. You guys have been hanging out a lot lately.”

Her voice is rough, and mean. Emma moves a little closer to her on the couch. “I thought about it, but. I didn’t want to leave my mom alone. You know? Not this year.”

Some of the tension goes out of Audrey’s arms, but not all of it. “Uh huh.”

Trying to figure out something to do with her hands, Emma takes another sip of her champagne, then winces at the aftertaste again. “What about you? I thought you might still go.”

Audrey snorts. “I wasn’t invited.”

Emma blinks. She was pretty sure _everyone_ had been invited. Nina’s like that. “You weren’t?”

“No, Emma,” Audrey says, like Emma’s forgetting something very obvious. “Of course I wasn’t.”

She doesn’t know what to say after that either. They both watch the TV for another moment, with Audrey’s nose crinkling every time the country singer’s voice gets particularly twangy. 

Briefly wishing she was better at drinking alcohol, Emma says, “Thanks for coming this year.” She doesn’t say _I know it’s been weird lately and I don’t know why but I feel it_ , or _you’re the only person who knows about my parents getting divorced and I wish I could just live at your house instead of in this empty one but I can’t_ , or _you’re really the only person I want to be with but you know too much about me and I want to be someone new sometimes_. Part of her hopes Audrey can sense those things even though she doesn’t say them, and part of her hopes she can’t. “It’s weird with my dad gone and I know you could be out doing something cooler. It means a lot that you’re here.”

Audrey gives her another look like she’s being stupid, and it’s a look Emma’s getting kind of tired of, despite all things. “Emma. For one thing, name one cooler thing I could be doing right now. Also, I’ve come to your house for New Year every year, since we were six. That’s not gonna change.”

Then she winces, because when she tilts her head to look at Emma her hair gets get between her shoulders and the couch. Emma reaches over, and tugs it free. 

“Remember,” Ryan Seacrest says, “a kiss on New Year’s is a guarantee for the future, folks, so if you wanna-”

“Are you gonna cut your hair again?” Emma says, Audrey’s hair still in her hand. Audrey’s temple has fallen, soft, against her palm, so that Emma’s half-cradling her face. “It’s gotten long.”

Audrey’s eyes do seem less big when her hair is longer, but not in this moment. Now they’re like moons. “I don’t know. Should I?”

Emma doesn’t really go in for telling people what to do with their bodies, but she does allow, “I liked it short.”

“Huh,” Audrey says.

The ball drops. They’ve missed the countdown by talking. They both look over to the TV again, and the monitor is covered in confetti and people kissing strangers. 

One time, when Emma was five, before she knew Audrey, a bee had stung her on the mouth. It’s probably her earliest memory. It hadn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, even though it did make her lips swell for a week or so. She doesn’t remember the pain as much as she remembers the sensation of it happening- the bump of something hard, initial surprise, the sudden shock against her mouth, and then the feeling of guilt, when it fell to ground. 

That’s a lot like what kissing Audrey is like, when Emma tries it. The bump, the electricity, then the uncertain, slightly nauseous feeling when she pulls away and Audrey’s eyes are so big they look like they could come right out of their sockets. Suddenly, Emma wishes her dad was here because if he had been, she never would’ve done that.

Still, she can’t undo it now. She cracks a smile, and lets go of Audrey’s hair. “So we’ll be together next year,” she says. “You know?”

“Right,” Audrey says, sounding strangled, and downs the rest of her champagne. 

Maggie comes in a few minutes later, bemoaning Grandma and the fact that she missed midnight. Audrey cuts her hair again next week.

Emma goes to Nina’s New Year’s party next year anyways.

\---

Emma’s fifteen now. Now it’s her that’s big, and the world that’s small. 

It’s two months away from her birthday and she hadn’t sent Audrey a _happy birthday_! Facebook message because Audrey hadn’t sent her one last year. It’s still turning her stomach over even though it was more than a week ago, because it feels petty, but other than that she made a conscious effort to not think too much about Audrey for almost a whole year now. Audrey’s certainly managed to not think about Emma in all that time just fine. Emma’s barely even seen her around, and their high school’s not even that big- it’s like she’s become a ghost.

But it’s not a big deal. Emma had other friends. Has other friends. She has a job, which is more than other fifteen-year-olds have, and a boyfriend, which is more than other fifteen-year-olds have. Her grades are good. Her life is good. Her legs don’t ache with growing pains anymore. She’s kissed at least three people who aren’t Audrey. 

As Mom says, _life goes on_. 

She’s working a double shift at the coffeeshop on a Saturday, and it’s fun, busy work. Emma’s decided she likes working retail, even if she doesn’t really like being stared at by people across the shop, mostly boys from school or men who tell her she looks like her mother. The coffee perks are good enough to make up for it most of the time, even though there was one incident where Georgia the manager had to beat a thirty-something male admirer out with a broom. Emma hadn’t told her mom about it.

The thing she can’t stand, though, is the customer service bell. She feels like the counter is small enough that everyone can see she is moving _as fast as she can_.

It’s rung twice now. 

When she finally returns to the front, two caramel macchiatos passed off to Mrs. Robins and her boyfriend with a slightly harried, “Sorry for the wait!”, she spins towards the direction of the pinging fully intending to deliver her greeting through her teeth. “Hi can I help y- oh.”

It’s Audrey. With someone else. 

Her hair’s shorter than it’s ever been, and her eyes are big and dark in her face. Actually everything about her is dark, her jacket and her jeans and her expression as she stares at Emma like they’ve never seen each other before. The only thing not dark about her is her companion, who’s blonde, and pretty. And smiling sunnily at Emma. 

“Hi,” Emma says dumbly.

“Hi!” Audrey’s friend says. And grins even more. Sincerely.

So Emma turns to her instead. “I’m… Emma,” she says, because she feels like they should be introduced, somehow, before remembering, “how can I help you?”

“Right,” the girl says, and scans the menu. “I guess… a regular mocha latte for me, and… what about you?”

“The same,” Audrey says, without missing a beat or looking at Emma.

Audrey hates mocha. Audrey hates coffee in general. Emma blinks.

But Audrey’s friend doesn’t. “Okay! Two mocha lattes, then. For Rachel, please.”

“Rachel,” Emma says, and then actually types it into the monitor. “Got it. That’ll be four seventy-two. For here or to go?”

“For here,” the girl says, and passes over five dollars. “Thanks. Keep the change.”

Emma takes it, mechanically. “Thank you very much. Your order will be right out.”

Rachel, whoever she is, smiles again. “Thanks,” she says, and heads off to find a table. Audrey gives another cursory glance back at Emma, then follows after her.

There isn’t anyone named Rachel in their grade, Emma’s almost sure of it. Also, Audrey hates coffee. She’s never come here before. 

She looks so different.

And she hadn’t said anything to Emma.

The thing is, Audrey was never like this. She’s a lot of things- blunt, biting, short in more ways than one- but she’s not cold. Audrey’s the most hotheaded person Emma knows. This isn’t like her, unless Emma really doesn’t know her at all anymore. 

When she comes out with their coffee, Audrey’s friend Rachel smiles sunnily at her again. Audrey still doesn’t look at her. 

“Here you are,” Emma says, then, directly to Audrey on a sudden spike of bravery, “there’s soy milk in yours.”

Because she’s allergic to dairy, and even though she _doesn’t like coffee_ , and Audrey blinks at her in surprise before taking the mug. Their hands don’t touch. “Thanks.”

“Oh!” Rachel says, looking between them and holding her cup close to her chest. “Do you two know each other?”

Emma wants to say _yes she’s my best friend_ even though they’ve barely spoken in more than a year, but more than that she wants to hear what Audrey will say. Audrey takes a sip of her coffee, makes a face, then says, “Mm. We used to go horseback riding together.”

And that’s it. 

Rachel’s face lights up. “You used to go horseback riding?”

Audrey groans, and smiles, and her head falls back against the chair’s cushion. “It ain’t like that now, Rach.”

“Oh my goodness,” Rachel says. “I would’ve never guessed that about you.”

There’s no room for Emma in this conversation. There wouldn’t be, anyway, if she’s just someone Audrey used to go horseback riding with. She leaves without even trying a enjoy your coffee, and takes a ten minute break, and cries for about seven of those minutes in a bathroom stall. She spends the other three reapplying her makeup, taking deep breaths, and texting Will, who’s busy at practice or something and doesn’t text her back. 

Audrey and Rachel stay in the coffee shop for about another hour. Emma doesn’t see Audrey looking at her once. 

\---

The world is small, and terrifying, and there’s no way out of it no matter how hard you try or how big you get. Emma’s stopped wearing heeled shoes.

She wakes up screaming in the night, because that’s what she always does now, and it wakes Audrey up, because she’s always with Audrey now. She can’t sleep unless Audrey is here.

And Audrey barely even flinches, just starts awake and immediately sits up and takes hold of Emma’s shoulders, not too hard but firm enough to keep from getting hit. “Emma. _Emma_. It’s okay. He’s not here. He can’t hurt you.”

Emma’s eyes find hers, and her body doesn’t go less tense but at least her eyes adjust to the dark. “Audrey.”

“Yeah, baby,” Audrey breathes, and it’s still kind of dark but Emma can still see her wince at the pet name. She shakes it off, though, and continues, “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re in my house, remember?”

Audrey’s house. Because Emma can’t sleep in her bed. Kieran had slept in her bed. 

“I remember,” Emma says, and she shuffles out of Audrey’s hold so she can rake her hair back. Audrey lets her. Her arms just fall limply to her sides. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Audrey doesn’t say anything else. She stays sitting up. She waits.

The silence is what really kills Emma. It always has been. She says, just to fill it, “In my dreams, he always gets you. Before that, Piper would always get my mom. But now…” 

“Well,” Audrey says. “He would’ve, if it wasn’t for you and your badassery. So your subconscious can calm down about that one.”

It can’t, though. It’s because of Audrey in real life that Emma and her mom aren’t dead either. She says, “You still wish we’d killed him.”

The halfhearted smile fades from Audrey’s face. She looks away, and shrugs.

“Sometimes I think we should’ve,” Emma says. It’s the quietest whisper she can manage, but it still rings in the room. “Isn’t that terrible? But sometimes I think I wouldn’t be so scared if he was dead.”

Audrey just shrugs again, and burrows back down under the covers. “Killing Piper didn’t make you less scared of her.” She looks up at Emma, eyes strange and doleful in the moonlight. “You should sleep. Come on. Go back to sleep. We have school tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, Emma lays back down. They lay facing each other, Audrey’s arms pillowing her head, Emma’s wrists dangling pale and shining between their noses.

Emma’s been tying her hair back a lot recently. Audrey’s is getting longer, and falling past her eyes onto the pillow. “Your hair’s getting long,” Emma says. 

Audrey chuckles. “Yeah. Well, I’ve got to do it myself now. The poor lady at the salon came at me with scissors a few weeks ago- like, she was just doing her job, but. I flipped out. Automatically. So now I’ve got all this hair in my face because I’ve been banned from locally owned salons.”

And she laughs, even though it’s not funny. Emma brushes Audrey’s hair out of her face, out of her eyes. “I can cut it for you.”

The laugh fades. Audrey blinks at her. “You would?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, and tries laughing. “Yeah, if you won’t flip out on me.” Her hand is still in Audrey’s hair. “I always liked it short.”

“I know,” Audrey says, and she didn’t laugh the second time. Now she’s just looking at Emma. “I remember.”

Of course she remembers, because Audrey remembers everything, except the things she chooses not to remember. Or maybe those are things Emma just makes up in her head.

She leans across the pillows, and kisses Audrey, because it’s time. They’re big enough now. 

When she pulls away, Audrey’s giving her the same big-eyed, scared look she gave her when they were thirteen and it was New Year’s, and Emma is just as lonely as she was then and even more scared. She says, “ _Emma_.”

“I mean it,” Emma says, and then a lot just comes spilling out of her, without her meaning for it to. “I meant it before too, when we were kids- I’m sorry for always being so scared, and I’m sorry for always dragging you into my messes, and I’m sorry I never understood what was happening with you and I’m sorry about Rachel and Piper and about your hair-”

Audrey kisses her again. It’s not like a bee this time. This time it’s just like a kiss, a soft one, one that could be hungry but is more tired than it is starving. “Emma,” she says. She doesn’t say _it’s okay_ or _it wasn’t your fault_ , because Emma’s sick of hearing it and Audrey’s probably sick of saying it. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

Emma pulls away from her, but she doesn’t stop looking. She says, “I don’t want you to think I don’t mean it.”

“I know you mean it,” Audrey says. “Only you say crap like _I mean it_ after you kiss people. I know. But we really should sleep.”

She pats Emma’s hair just once, but it’s enough. It makes her smile, at least. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Audrey says back, in agreement, and as a show of peace, she closes her eyes. 

Emma does too.

**Author's Note:**

> I THOUGHT SCREAM WAS GOING TO DIE AND IT DIDN'T..... i hate scream so much this is my hate letter to scream


End file.
